


Days In The Life Of A Grieving Family

by Aaron_The_8th_Demon



Series: Memories [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood of Steel - Freeform, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Grief/Mourning, Identity Issues, Insomnia, M/M, Memories, Mental Health Issues, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Blind Betrayal, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:01:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14167461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaron_The_8th_Demon/pseuds/Aaron_The_8th_Demon
Summary: As he recovers from his injuries, Danse struggles to adjust to life without Anthony and works on being a better parent to Shaun.





	1. Loved

**JULY 2289**

 

It made Danse hate himself just a little bit more than he already had each time Shaun caught him crying.

It wasn’t the nightmares, because those had never made him cry. He’d woken up screaming and fighting more than a few times in the past, but fear had never caused him to shed tears. It wasn’t the physical pain, because Aster had developed some kind of tea from dried bloodleaf plants that dulled his headaches. His legs were both still broken, but his arm had more or less healed, so he barely even needed narcotic painkillers anymore.

But somehow, even though it had been three months, Danse hadn’t reconciled himself to the situation. Some mornings he still roused from his fitful sleep thinking he would roll over and find Anthony there, mumbling words half in English and half in Russian through his slumber. Every so often a thought came to him that he’d get the urge to share with the other man, maybe even ask him about. But Anthony wasn’t with him anymore, and the realization still hit him at the worst moments, and Danse thought he’d wept more in the last three months than he ever had in the rest of his life put together.

That didn’t mean Shaun needed to see it, though.

Sometimes the boy would just come over and hug him or try to say something to cheer him up. Others, it would make Shaun start crying, too, and Danse wished someone would come along and beat him out of it so that it would stop torturing his son. It was the only idea that had weight for him right now beyond the basic one of _Anthony is dead,_ the voice that kept saying _I’m hurting Shaun._

It was almost worse how forgiving the kid was about everything, too. “Good morning, Dad. I love you.” “Good night, Dad. I love you.” “Look, Dad, I drew this for you yesterday.” “Hey Dad, when your legs are better, can we go fishing? I bet there’s lots of good fishing spots around here.” And so on. This instigated a slew of empty promises, that yes, Danse would take Shaun fishing and hunting and go out looking for more robot models if he found a location that looked safe enough. In truth, he was so emotionally depleted that he didn’t even want to _think_ about doing any of those things.

Annoying though they were, the periodic rounds of poking and prodding by Aster did bring some amount of distraction from his torment. She asked if he’d been trying to reach under the casts to scratch, or if his headaches were being kept in check by the tea. What made things worse, on the other hand, were the times when Chase appeared to make sure he wasn’t trying to “escape,” and the two hours per week Faraday was pried out of the observatory to do a psych eval on him.

Particularly the first question that was always brought up: “How much do you want to die today?”

“When are you going to stop asking me that?” Danse snapped instead of answering, folding his arms across his chest and glowering horribly at the young scientist.

Faraday sighed. “When Aster says I can stop asking it. Now, how much…? Last week you told me that you didn’t have any desire to attempt again, but that you wouldn’t mind being able to close your eyes and just disappear forever. Has it changed since then?”

“Essentially, no.”

“Okay… what have your dreams been like?”

“There have been no deviations from how they’ve always been.”

“I see. So… you still dream about your husband dying?”

“Most nights,” Danse admitted, nearly muttering the words. He looked away from Faraday and fixed his eyes on the wall to his left.

“How are you feeling right now?”

“Irritated. I’m bored with this routine.”

“That’s understandable,” Faraday nodded, not unkindly. That didn’t mean Danse appreciated it, though. “What about your interactions with Shaun?”

“I don’t deserve him,” Danse replied without thinking. “He’s so… I think this is how Anthony felt after he found him… after…” No, _no,_ there were tears trying to form at that thought. He stared through them until they receded and swallowed to get control over himself. “I’m still not used to him calling me ‘Dad.’”

“You will be eventually.” Faraday was observing him patiently. He glanced at the clipboard in his hand, then surprisingly set it aside and leaned back in the chair with his ankle up on his other knee. “Tell me about Anthony.”

“Excuse me?”

The scientist shrugged: “Just tell me about him. Clearly this damn list of questions isn’t helping you, so I’m trying something else today.”

“I… I’m not sure where to begin,” Danse replied, uncertain. He glanced down at the casts on his legs; the left one was almost healed, but the right would still be sub-optimal for at least another month. More of his weight had been on the right leg when he’d landed and had resulted in a greater injury, so much so that Aster had actually been forced to operate in order to straighten the bone fragments. “Sometimes I forget that he’s gone.”

“That’s normal,” Faraday offered. “And the hard truth is that there’s really nothing any of us can say to help you feel better. You’ve lost the person who meant the most to you, there’s no fixing that. This probably won’t be very nice to hear, but really what you’ll find… is that eventually you get used to the pain. You’ll never stop loving him or missing him, but instead of thinking about how much it hurts that he’s gone, you’ll be thinking back to when you _did_ have him and why you fell in love with him.”

“I know why I fell in love with him,” Danse countered. He found himself talking quietly for some reason, and his eyes still hadn’t left his injured limbs on the bed. “When I was with the Brotherhood, there were plenty of soldiers who were passionate about our mission, but it seemed to be for the wrong reasons. They wanted to exterminate the abominations like ghouls and super mutants and sy… they wanted to exterminate them, but they didn’t care about why those things had come into being or how it could be prevented in the future.

“Or they were very interested in technology, but more in the sense of keeping it for themselves rather than the idea that we were safeguarding it from those who would misuse it. With Anthony… he did understand the importance of our mission. I think it may have been due to the situation he was in, but he believed that the Brotherhood had the means to help make the world safer. He wanted to get things as close as he could to the quality of life he’d known before the war, but without the danger of a second cataclysm.

“It’s rare that I’ve encountered such… goodness in another human being. Everything he did was because he truly wanted to help. He never thought less of me for my burdens, either, and in fact helped me shoulder quite a few of them. And somehow this kind, intelligent, caring man found something in _me_ to love even though I’ve never considered myself worthy of it...”

* * *

**MAY 2288**

 

It was mildly surprising that Anthony was already up when Danse awoke that morning. Much more startling, though, was the fact that he’d actually _slept._

“How’re you feeling?” Anthony chuckled as Danse pulled him in closer.

“Confused,” he admitted. “I seem to be rested and my head doesn’t hurt as much as usual. I feel… oddly pleasant.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” his boyfriend grinned.

They’d spent the previous day throwing together scrap lumber and hacked-up branches into a barely serviceable shelter on a little spot of land off the main island of Far Harbor. The tinkering and jury-rigging of Liberty Prime sometimes left Anthony with weeks between missions, so he used that time to continue his side-jobs in Maine; it only stood to reason he’d need a place to live while he was here.

There was no plumbing, no heating, no generator and no comfort elements yet. Hell, there wasn’t even a real bed. That hadn’t stopped them last night. The idea of sex hadn’t been entirely unfamiliar to Danse, of course. There were always prostitutes to be found if one cared to look. What he hadn’t been prepared for was the emotional impact - the fumbling search for erogenous zones on each other, Danse accidentally elbowing Anthony in the face at one point, wondering briefly if his boyfriend still doubted himself for being attracted to other men.

Now they were all but twisted into a knot, their sleeping bags fully unzipped so that they lay on one and were covered by the second. Yesterday’s clothes were jumbled together and balled up about a meter away by the rest of their kits, not as tidy as normal. In their less than ideal bedding, they were still in delicious skin contact and cocooned in warmth. It was the beginning of May, but that meant little in Far Harbor, where allegedly the cold from the fog got into your bones and you’d never be warm again. Clearly, though, this wasn’t the case.

Danse found himself pressing closer into Anthony’s side, ear to the other’s sternum to hear the thumping beneath. Apparently people before the war would’ve called him a “cuddler.” Personally he didn’t see anything wrong with that assessment; the sensation of closeness and just being _loved_ was intoxicating like nothing he’d ever encountered.

“You’re thinking again,” Anthony murmured.

Strong fingers were suddenly kneading his scalp and temples, making Danse feel like his muscles had dissolved under his skin. He sank all the more heavily against his boyfriend with a contented sigh and closed his eyes. The pressure was just right, massaging away his chronic migraine and prompting the circulation to improve slightly so that his brain didn’t feel like it was trying to break free of his skull for once.

“Keep doing that,” Danse begged when it seemed like Anthony was about to stop.

“Sure,” Anthony laughed. “But only because I like how snuggly you’ve gotten.”

“Hmmm,” he grunted, beyond the reach of words now. During the moments when he was more focused than this, it was terrifying to realize how much he loved Anthony, but right now he didn’t mind as much. It was also vaguely reassuring that no matter how bad it was for him, this same love had hit Anthony at least as hard.

After what seemed like a very long time (but which was probably less than an hour in reality) they finally roused for the day, shrugging on ancient but reasonably clean work clothes and packing their things into a tarpaulin to keep out of the way so they could get their little camp into better shape. Danse was adept at spacial relations between objects, so he did quite a bit of the planning.

The hard labor of breaking down raw materials kept them warm enough from the wind that cut over their skin, and by lunch the structure had graduated from “barely serviceable” to “decently constructed” even though it was only half-finished. Danse was used to skipping lunch altogether during field ops, but the sheer physical effort of trying to get a cabin built by evening had made his hunger impossible to further postpone.

Seated on the newly-laid floor, Anthony produced tins of radstag stew and two bottles of Nuka Quantum for their meal - God only knew how he’d carried glass bottles in his pack all this way without breaking them - and despite the food being cold, and the soda (as always) being flat and stale, Danse couldn’t help but find it enticing. Aside from being famished, he enjoyed working hard on a tangible project with someone he loved, and that made everything better.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this much,” Anthony chuckled between bites of stew.

“Me neither,” Danse agreed, nodding slightly. “I’m in high spirits today.”

“It’s because you got laid last night,” his boyfriend snickered.

“Unlikely,” he countered. “I simply feel… fulfilled at the moment. We’re making excellent time on this construction and sharing a meal in a peaceful location. I think that would make anyone content.”

Anthony’s humorous grin shifted into a more genuine smile, making his dark eyes gleam warmly. “I’m really glad you’re here to build it with me, you know. I slept a few places before the _Pryd_ arrived, and then I had a bunk there, but… I really like it here. There’s still a little bit of the natural beauty I remember from before the war, and… since you’re here, too, this place isn’t just mine. It’s _ours._ We’re making this together, and that’s special.”

“I agree.” Danse frowned a little when he glanced down at his now-empty can, still somewhat hungry despite having eaten a large helping. “When you have objectives to complete here in Far Harbor, I’ll always accompany you if you let me. It’s certainly an appealing landscape compared to what I’ve seen elsewhere.”

Anthony eyed him, seeming like something needed to be mulled over in his head. After an extended silence, as they were getting up to continue their work, he finally voiced the thought.

“Maybe you could just be here all the time.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Well, from what I’ve seen and heard, it’s fucking rare that the Institute tries reaching this far. So you’d be safe from them. We know you’d _definitely_ be safe from everyone else, too. And once the Institute is gone, I’ll have a lot more time to be here. I think it might help you, Jake. A lot. You don’t have any memories here, so you’re just making new ones, right? So they’ll be clean of everything that’s been bothering you until now.”

“But then you’d be roaming the Commonwealth alone,” Danse protested. “That wouldn’t be especially safe.”

“Well, I want you to be safe, too,” Anthony shrugged. “It’s okay. Just think about it though, okay? It could work out.”

“I want to be where you are,” he answered impulsively. “I… I mean, your wellbeing is important to a lot of people and-”

Anthony snatched his half-empty bottle of soda, settled it on the floor by his knee, and yanked him by his shirt into a kiss.

“Stop that,” his boyfriend ordered through a grin that was altogether too charming; it stole all his thoughts for the moment. “You’re terrible at expressing yourself, so here’s a pointer: if you worry about me, just say you’re worried about me. Okay?”

“I do worry,” Danse mumbled, embarrassed at his inability to convey words outside of barking orders in combat. Well, except for now, apparently, because suddenly they were pouring out and he couldn’t stop them. “I worry you’ll get shot down during transit in a vertibird, or that you’ll be eaten by super mutants, or that the Institute will kidnap you, or any number of other scenarios. You can imagine the things I’ve seen after being with the Brotherhood for more than a decade, and somehow your life still _terrifies_ me.”

Anthony was nodding slightly, meeting his eyes without flinching. That almost made _him_ flinch instead - the absolute lack of hesitation. Danse wondered how it was this man was so full of self-doubt when he projected this much confidence to the world at large.

“I think that’s still better than following you around the _Prydwen_ like a lovesick puppy even though you outranked me,” Anthony smirked. “Proctor Teagan made fun of me for it a couple of times.”

“But I told you to shadow me,” Danse frowned. “Why would they find humor at you following orders?”

Now the other man out-and-out laughed. “God, you’re oblivious,” was all he said in response.

They finished their beverages before returning to the task at hand. Anthony dug the pit for the outhouse while Danse got back to hammering down the sheet metal to the roof. It wasn’t the best weatherproofing, but it would do until they could amass enough tarpaulin and tree sap to do it properly. Despite the thin, low-hanging mist and lightly overcast sky, it was a nice day for working. They were still making good time and for the moment Danse was content to forget about how he was an abomination of technology that shouldn’t exist.

Once the structure had been completed, they gathered together the leftover cans of paint Anthony had scrounged up and used the half-coagulated sludge to plug the gaps in the walls. It looked like hell, but that would also be solved at a later point by pine pitch and tarp scraps.

“We need to learn how to tan animal skins,” Anthony commented as they used the last of the lumber to assemble some shelving for their clothes. “Cover the floor and the walls with them. It’ll keep in the warmth when it’s cold out and we can stack them for extra bedding.”

“I tend to have night sweats as it is,” Danse warned. “Additional warmth in our sleeping space isn’t something I can advise.”

“‘Our’ sleeping space, huh?” Anthony chuckled. “Careful there, you almost sounded mildly attached for a second.”

“I am attached,” Danse grumbled. “And now that I’ve grown accustomed to slumbering in your company-”

“You’re a cuddler,” his boyfriend interrupted. “Actually, Nora _wasn’t_ a cuddler. At the beginning I was really surprised by that, and I have to say I like this better.”

“Understandably so. I’ve never been particularly enthralled by the idea of bunking in close quarters with women either.” Anthony flinched at that and actually dropped his tools. He wasn’t clumsy normally, so Danse was concerned by that reaction. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Anthony nodded, extremely unconvincingly. “That’s just, um, not what I meant when I said that.”

Danse found himself sighing heavily.

“At the risk of sounding overly similar to Cade whenever he was trying to get a message across to me, we’re going to be extremely clinical for a moment here, because I don’t quite understand what the problem is. According to medical and scientific terminology, there is a word for this, Anton.”

“Yeah?”

“Science has a word for everything,” Danse affirmed. “The fact of the matter is that you are, if I’m not mistaken, a homosexual. I am also a homosexual. Given this information, and that we’re in agreement that we’re romantically and sexually attracted to each other, what exactly is bothering you about this situation?”

Anthony broke into a fit of laughter, but it wasn’t amused; Danse may have been mistaken, but as far as he could tell it was a combination of humiliated and nervous. The thin man cracked his knuckles briefly and was suddenly refusing eye contact.

“Um… well, I… I’ve never been comfortable using that term to describe myself.”

“Because it wasn’t openly discussed and practiced before the war,” Danse recalled. Dammit, how had he forgotten that conversation? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrupt you emotionally.”

“It’s okay.” Anthony shook his head. “I mean, I’m okay, too. I want to be okay with it, I’m just not used to… being _allowed_ to be okay with the way I am. I just wanted to be normal, but there’s no normal in the world anymore as it is, right?”

“Why do you want to be different from how you are?” Danse questioned. He was still baffled by that concept. “You’re perfect.”

Anthony smiled a little. “Well, you’re the only one who thinks that, but thanks.”

Danse swallowed hard and tried to put together the right words for the situation: “Anton, look at me.” He waited to be obeyed before continuing. “Whatever you think of yourself as, understand how I think of you, alright? You’re intelligent and kind and you’re a beautiful man, and… and I love you.”

They’d generally accused each other of the emotion before, as well as admitting to feeling it in different (often poorly chosen) words. But neither of them had actually used the phrase until now. Danse didn’t know how to feel about the fact that he was the one who’d said it first - inexplicably terrified, or relieved to have finally gotten it out, or nervous that he’d only made the situation worse, or all three of those things. Emotions were such nuisances.

The utterly shocked look he got from Anthony, though, made him freeze mid-thought.

“Uh…” The thin man seemed to have been thrown completely for a loop. “Wait, what did you just say to me?”

Danse panicked. “I-I don’t know, I’ve never said it before,” he stammered, immediately trying to back away from his boyfriend in a way he never had prior even when his life was threatened.

Anthony shook his head and unexpectedly darted forward to grab Danse by the forearms. “Okay. Stop that, you look like you’re about to get eaten by a deathclaw.”

“Anton-”

“Hey, _stop,_ okay? Stop and breathe, if you don’t breathe you’ll pass out, you know.” He was yanked forward into a hug, of all things, with Anthony’s mouth by his ear. “You caught me by surprise, that’s all. I’m not mad that you said it. I… Jake, oh my God, I so wanted to say it to you first, but I’m gutless.” A kiss to his temple. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Danse mumbled. He was beyond confused now. “How are you gutless? I’ve seen you go after a horde of ferals with a crude pipe weapon and sheet metal tied to your chest.”

“I know, isn’t that the most romantic way we could’ve met?” Anthony joked. “The glow from the gunfire really brought out your eyes.”

Danse ignored the sarcasm and hesitantly rubbed his palm up and down the other man’s back, purposely keeping his touch light. “I’m sorry for startling you. I already know how you… feel about things, so if you never want to say it you don’t have to. Please also disregard any scientific words I may have used to describe one or both of us earlier. You’re just Anthony, and I love you.”

“I see,” his boyfriend slowly replied. “Because in spite of your understandable identity crisis, you’re still Jacob and… and-” Anthony was starting to shake again. “-I love you.”

Danse constricted his arms slightly tighter, trying to stop the trembling. He hated that he’d been the cause of it this time, but he could work on that. In the grip of his embrace, he could already feel Anthony relaxing some, and that loosened something in his chest. He’d needed this… they’d both needed this.


	2. Health

**FEBRUARY 2289**

 

Shaun kept stumbling on the snow, and couldn’t catch himself because his frozen hands were shoved into his armpits. He could hear his dad falling behind him even more, but every time he tried to look, Anthony started yelling and shoving him to get home faster.

Sloshing across the sandbar to their little island hurt - Shaun could feel the cold even through his rubber boots and two pairs of wool socks. He wanted his mittens back, but they were soaked and in Anthony’s also-soaked backpack.

At the sound of a huge splash, Shaun just had to see over his shoulder. His dad was face-down, sputtering and thrashing to try getting back up. He wanted to go back and help, but his hands were like ice and he couldn’t. So instead he started shouting.

It seemed to take way too long for Danse to appear and come sprinting across, in just his rubbers and a shirt with no coat or hat. Shaun just watched, feeling scared, as Danse lifted Anthony out of the sea growling bad words. The three of them dragged themselves back onto their island, dripping salt water across the floor once they were in the cabin.

“Get all the towels and blankets,” Danse barked.

“But my hands-”

“NOW, SHAUN!” the former soldier roared.

Too scared to argue, Shaun obeyed, grabbing a big stack of towels with his arms and running back over. His stepfather was stripping Anthony and throwing the soaked winter clothes in every direction, then taking the towels one by one and rubbing his dad dry.

“I told you to get the blankets,” Danse snapped.

“I-okay,” Shaun nodded, not wanting to get screamed at again. He brought over as many as he could carry with his unfeeling hands. “Here.”

“Okay,” Danse was whispering. “Okay.”

Shaun watched Danse also get undressed, laying carefully on top of Anthony and wrapping them both in all the blankets. He was starting to shiver himself, he wanted to take off his boots and put on his pajamas, sit in bed with his drawing notebook and a mug of that vegetable soup his dad made. But he didn’t dare move or say anything - he just knew Danse would get mad at him again if he did.

“Anton, what happened out there? Why did you come home in such a dangerous condition?”

“Fell through,” Anthony was muttering. He sounded tired. “Thought the stream was frozen over… tracking a ’stag. Shaun helped pull me out.”

“Good.” Danse kissed Anthony’s forehead. “Good… oh. Shaun, are you cold?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. Danse had twisted around to stare at him. “My hands…”

“Go put on something dry and sit by the stove,” his stepfather ordered. “Hold your hands out as close as you can to it until they feel normal again, alright?”

“Okay.”

Shaun hurried to do what he’d been told. He dropped his things in the pile with his dad’s wet clothes and got into his favorite pajamas, then settled cross-legged in front of the wood stove with his hands just a couple inches from it so that they’d get warm again. Behind him, the bed was rattling from his dad shivering so hard.

* * *

**JULY 2289**

 

Shaun had the tins under one arm and the jars in the other - canned food and juice. It was mutfruit and tarberry blended, because the mutfruit was sweeter but the tarberry was healthier… or something. The cans were silt beans, diced tatos and carrot slices mixed with angler meat that had been fried in oil. Shaun had watched this recipe get cooked once and even though it ended up as a brownish-orange mess it smelled and tasted great.

Danse was being checked up by Aster when he got there, but it looked like they were almost done, so he took the meals over.

“Hi, Aster,” Shaun interrupted.

“Hey, bud. Lunch?”

“Yeah. I got food for my dad.”

Danse still flinched a little whenever Shaun called him that, but the twitch seemed like it was a little smaller each time. Shaun sat in the metal chair and handed over the lunch food, then popped open his can and took a forkful.

“Yell when the tea wears off,” Aster told Danse before walking away.

“Are your legs almost better?” Shaun asked between mouthfuls.

“The left one is almost healthy again. The right one needs more time.”

“I just really want to go fishing.”

“Yes, you’ve said as much to me several times now. Unfortunately your desires for that activity don’t cause my bones to mend any more rapidly.”

“Will they be fixed before it gets too cold to go fishing anymore?” Shaun worried.

“Hopefully, yes. In any case, Aster raised the possibility of me being semi-ambulatory through the use of crutches in a week or two, which is progress. I won’t be stuck in bed all the time if that happens.”

“That’s great,” Shaun grinned. He glugged down a bunch of juice. “I wanna go out and start doing stuff again. It’s nice here, but… it’s really boring. I like building stuff with electronics and there aren’t any here.”

“I understand. Perhaps you should ask Faraday or Cog if they have spares for you, I imagine if anyone does it’ll be them.”

“Faraday’s busy and Cog told me I’d have to give him caps if I wanted anything,” Shaun mumbled. He took an angry bite of his food and then threw the empty can at the wall, which got him glared at. “Sorry. I’ll pick it up.”

As he got the tin from the floor and put it into the trash like he should’ve, he heard Danse sigh. “Are you going to pointlessly blame the absence of scrap electronics or are you going to explain to me how you really feel?”

Shaun dropped back into the chair and finished drinking his juice before answering.

“I miss Dad.”

“I know. So do I.” Danse put down his food and Shaun could see he had only eaten half of it. That was pretty normal; Danse never ate anything these days. He didn’t look any sicker from it, but he did seem tired. “Do you still dream about him?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I dream about being in the Institute. It was really boring there, too, and… I remember waiting a lot. They gave me stuff to read and stuff to play with and electronics and tools and all kinds of things, but I was still bored and waiting. And then the Brotherhood of Steel came, and they got me out of my room. I was always in the same room. I told them I was waiting for my dad, and they brought me to him. That’s what I dream about. I dream about him finding me.” Shaun stopped for a second. “What do you dream about?”

“I dream about him, too. But it’s never pleasant. It’s the same nightmare, just the memory of when he died. And no, I’m not going to tell you, so stop looking at me like that.”

“You were lying there with him.”

“Yes.”

“That’s good,” Shaun told Danse. “It made him happy when he was with you. So I’m less sad about it because he was with you at the end. I bet it made him less sad, too.”

“I can’t think about it.” Danse sounded like he was choking. “It was so ugly.”

Shaun thought for a second - he had to come up with something. He didn’t want to make his dad cry again. It seemed like he did that a lot and it made him feel bad. “You know he smiled different about you.”

“Excuse me?”

“He did,” Shaun insisted. “Like when you helped him cut up meat for lunch and dinner or when you were doing gun stuff together. It wasn’t always a face-smile, but his eyes were smiling. I read that in a book once when I was in the Institute, but I didn’t know what it was until later on. People’s eyes smile.”

“An interesting observation,” Danse replied. “I’m not particularly adept at recognizing facial expressions, though, so I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Sometimes when we went fishing he tried to teach me other words for things. Did he teach them to you, too?”

“Words in Russian? Well… yes, he did, but…” Danse’s face was suddenly turning red. “Um. Yes. I learned a few words of Russian from him. Why, which ones did he teach you?”

“ _Voda_ is water,” Shaun remembered. “Haddock is _ryba-piksha._ A tackle box is called _yaschik dlya instrumentov._ There were others… what words did you learn?”

“Nothing appropriate for a conversation with you,” Danse answered sternly. “Drink your juice, it supports your immune system and various other things.”

“I already did,” Shaun told him. “And anyway, you didn’t finish your lunch, even though you should, too. Aster said so.”

“I see. Aster’s word is law for you?”

“Well… no, but she’s a doctor, so you should listen to her. And Faraday. And me.”

“I do listen to you, Shaun. You know that.”

“No you don’t,” he argued. “Not always. But that’s okay. You’re getting better about it.”

 

Eight days later, Shaun was watching Aster teach his dad to hobble around on crutches. The wood and rubber tools made Danse look funny as he practiced going back and forth throughout the medical area, tucked into his armpits while his right leg couldn’t even be allowed to touch the floor. But at least he was moving around on his own, now.

“Good job, Dad,” Shaun cheered from where he sat on the patient bed. “You’re almost back to normal.”

Danse was looking frustrated at how hard using the crutches was - he’d been laying around for over three months, after all, so he’d lost some strength and it took effort to move like that. But he’d probably be able to go to a sink and shave, now. He’d complained for weeks about doing it with a hand-mirror and a bucket of water in his lap, and it must’ve been really annoying because he hadn’t done it recently and was very bristly.

“Remember not to put weight on the right side,” Aster kept saying, as if Danse might forget after the first hundred times.

“And I have three more weeks in my current state, correct?”

“Yup. After that we can get you back to normal. You need to eat, though.”

“I eat.”

“Not enough,” Aster told him. “Don’t you dare glare at your son, he didn’t say anything. I see him taking away half your food after every meal.”

“My appetite has diminished due to lack of physical activity.”

“No, you’re not eating because you’re depressed. Start finishing your meals or Chase will hold you down while I force-feed you, got it?”

Shaun tried not to snicker at his dad’s predictable eye-roll. He was a little scared, though - he didn’t want Danse to still be depressed. Sometimes Shaun thought he would try to die again once he could walk normally, because he just looked so sad and sort of lost.

 _You promised,_ Shaun thought as he watched his dad struggle around on the crutches. _You promised you won’t try to die again._

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this work, please feel free to check out my original WIP, [Nucleus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10027367).


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